


WWBD?

by niniadepapa



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-14
Updated: 2016-03-14
Packaged: 2018-05-26 17:58:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6249832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niniadepapa/pseuds/niniadepapa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>au. there’s a lot of stuff that emma doesn’t expect in her every day life, and getting a private message from a friend she spent a summer with 17 years ago isn’t one of them. that’s facebook friends to you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	WWBD?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [baiservole](https://archiveofourown.org/users/baiservole/gifts).



> for cee (aka baiservole on here, emmasneverland on tumblr) my dearest friend and internet wife. i hope you've had the best day, and this makes you laugh at least once. there's not a day that i'm not grateful for having you in my life. i love you, tiny cee <3 
> 
> also, this was based on something that actually happened to me not long ago, without the romantic part because my love life is lame but whatever :)

See, the thing about social media is that it drives people crazy. At least that’s Emma’s take on it. In fact, she only caved into getting a Facebook account after losing a bet to Ruby and Mary Margaret. She also recalls the realization of the fact that, if _everybody_ was getting one, it also meant she could find out how old friends and acquaintances she’d lost contact with over the years were doing. Between the ‘Friends with friends’ and the ‘Import your friends from your e-mail contacts’ features, she’d found quite a lot of people she’d met during her youth: high school classmates, friends from summer programs abroad, colleagues from her first job, and even a one-night-stand she’d not bothered to add. 

A couple of years after this first impulsive ‘let’s add everybody I know on this thing’ operation, Emma starts weeding out the ones she’d rather really not have on her Facebook wall. From proclaimed douchebags sharing meninist videos to a couple of acquaintances with dubious political views, she’d felt way better after a Facebook cleaning routine. But during those cleaning sessions some of those impulsively-added friends from forever ago stayed in her feed, even if she never truly engaged with them in the years they stayed in her Friends list on her social media besides the occasional ‘Like’ or Happy birthday greeting. She never found it in herself to get rid of that handful of names, especially the ones that she’d been close to for a short while in her past.

And that’s how, seventeen years after their last encounter, she finds an unread private message on her Facebook inbox by one Killian Jones.

 

**_hi emma! it’s killian, i’m not sure if you remember me - god knows i’d have forgotten all about the geek whose house you stayed in eons ago. anyway, i saw that you live in boston (and after typing this i realize how creepy that sounds, but that’s social media to you: thin-veiled disguised stalking), and the thing is i’ve been offered a new position at my job that’d move me to our office there. i’d love to catch up once i’m settled, so hit me up if you’re up for it._ **

 

Her mug freezes in her way to her lips. She hasn’t really heard from Killian since forever: he had been one of those ‘lucky’ additions to her Friends list, and one that has stayed through the years. They had met when she was eleven and Ruth had insisted in her going to a summer program abroad where each student stayed in a different local families’ house. Lucky for her, Mrs. Jones had been kind enough to take her in, and she’d spent four weeks under Killian’s roof, sharing meals with him and sleeping in the room next to his. They had become fast friends, but him living in a quaint seaside town in the UK and her back in Boston once the program was done they hadn’t really been able to visit again. He had surprised her with several postcards here and there until social media truly boomed and they became Facebook friends, though. She still kept them, along with her most treasured possessions from her childhood.  
****

Their Facebook friendship hadn’t brought any drastic changes: they greeted each other once he accepted her friends request, liked each other posts, sometimes commented on the others’ pictures, but that was it. She liked going through the pictures of his travels and the projects he did, portraits of his friends and strangers that he sometimes posted labelled as ‘work stuff’. 

She finds it difficult to reconcile the Killian she met back that summer, with the one she’s kept tabs on on Facebook, to the new Killian coming to Boston that she can actually get to meet once again. 

With the memory of his toothy grin and wiggling eyebrows when he wouldn’t give her the remote in his living room, she starts typing. 

 

_i’m offended at your assumption that i’d have forgotten all about the best roommate i ever got; even though your new name on here kinda threw me off for a moment. how are you? it’s been so long! i’m glad to hear about the new job, and i’d be happy to show you around once you’re already installed :) keep me updated, okay?_

 

* * *

 

 “God, that’s… weird,” Ruby comments once she tells him during their weekly drinks night.

“It’s not _that_ weird.”

Ruby gives her a curious look, managing to nibble on her straw without leaving a red lipstick mark on it, a talent that Emma still marvels at even after all of these years. “Aren’t you embarrassed?” she asks, and Emma takes a healthy swig of her cocktail.

“Why would I be embarrassed?”

“I don’t know. It’s been super long,” her friend replies with a shrug. Emma waves a hand and goes back to read over the menu that she’s memorized over the past four months - since they found this bar, actually - to avoid Ruby’s searching gaze. 

“I know. That’s why it’s _funny_ , not embarrassing,” she emphasizes. 

Ruby exhales, the ultimate ‘I give up for now but don’t even think you’re out of the hook’ sign. “Whatever you say.” Her nails clack against the laminated menu and promptly calls the waiter’s attention so they can get started on their usual Thursday night greasy treats. 

They make small talk while they dig into their chili fries until Ruby all of a sudden jumps on her seat and picks her phone like a woman on a mission. It says a lot about their friendship that Emmadoesn’t even bat an eyelash, just sighs as Ruby announces: “Let’s check on this lunatic who all of a sudden texts you.”

Emma snorts. “Nice try. He rarely posts pictures, unless he’s tagged on those of his projects.” 

(She, of course, had checked on him once she got his message. She wasn’t _completely_ hopeless when it came to surviving an online meeting.)

Ruby keeps sweeping past pictures from Killian’s profile on her phone and making noises under her breath until one catches her attention and she snorts loudly. She holds up her phone. “Emma, you can’t be serious. He wore a _ponytail_.” Emma laughs, and Ruby cocks her head as she stares at the picture closely. “Huh. He _kinda_ makes it work, though.” She scrunches up her nose. “ _Kinda_.”

Emma shakes her head and bites into the sandwich the waiter left on her plate with a wink. “You’re impossible,” she adds as an afterthought, and smiles through Ruby’s comments as she keeps searching through Emma’s old, or kinda-maybe-new friend.

 

* * *

 

Listen: Emma’s _not_ nervous about this. At all. Like, 99% not nervous about this meeting. Nor is she embarrassed, or jittery, or freaking out about it. 

It doesn’t mean _anything_ that she changes outfits like three times in the span of fifteen minutes. 

Or that she rehearses in her head different topics she might have to lean on in case she gets out of ideas of what to talk with him while they’re together. 

Seriously: 99% perfectly OK with whatever happens during her re-introduction to Killian Jones.

 

* * *

 

She’s five minutes late when she finally gets to the place they have agreed to meet at (Granny’s, best grilled cheese on this side of Boston). She won’t admit under oath that she’s muttering some sort of self-bracing prayer to herself as she sweeps her gaze over the sitting patrons at the several booths and tall chairs by the bar.

And it’s _not_ disappointment that she feels when she doesn’t meet unruly dark hair anywhere. 

With a grin towards Granny, she dives into her favorite booth, miraculously free, and waits impatiently, tapping her nails on the countertop and staring through the window. She takes out her phone from her purse, wondering is she should call him. Maybe he’d gotten lost? He _was_ new in Boston, after all. Maybe traffic had gotten the best of him. Or a pickpocket. The eleven-year-old Killian she’d known, all bony knees and bangs over his eyes, had screamed ‘mug me’ when she had met him; what if that hadn’t changed?

( _What if he has just changed his mind and has blown you off?_ )

She’s about to cave in and call him when someone suddenly breezes into the opposite side of her booth, wide grin and sparkling blue eyes shining at her. “Hi,” he says, and Emma’s hand jumps to her chest.

“Oh my God!”

He chuckles, passing a hand through his now short hair. “Weren’t what you expected, was I?”

Her laugh is sincere and loud as she gets to her feet and approaches him. “It’s not that, I thought you were some random douche I was gonna have to blow off.”

“Nice,” he surmises, and joins her at the side of their table and opens his arms, enveloping her in a bone-crushing hug that she finds herself mimicking, which is surprising to say the least. She’s never been the touchy-feely kind of a girl, but there’s something about finding herself in Killian’s presence, the gangly boy she’d met such a long time ago who’d make her pancakes in the weekends and slip a second candy in her lunchbox when his mother wasn’t looking. “It’s good to see you Emma,” he says quietly against her hair. 

“You too,” she says as she pulls back from him, fearing that her voice is reaching an uncomfortable level of unsteady. She tries to mask it by pointing at his hair with a constipated guffaw. “Where’s the ponytail?”

To her never ending amazement, he actually _blushes_ , and Emma jots that down as one of the things that haven’t changed about Killian Jones. “Quit it years ago, actually,” he shares, motioning for her to take back their seats. His lips curve into a pleased smirk. “Been checking up on me, have you?”

“Had to make sure you hadn’t turned into a complete serial killer or something.”

His eyes light up in amusement. “We _did_ watch Scream together.” 

“And you knew the movies by heart.”

“That I did.”

(He did. Emma remembers a weekend at his place, when she’d been feeling too tired after a day trip with her class and he’d suggested watching a movie and they’d ended up watching the entire Scream trilogy.) (Even if she never admitted it to Killian back then, she’d quite enjoyed the intensive course in meta horror movies. Killian even quizzed her on the three rules of how to successfully survive a horror movie.) (She _still_ remembered them.) 

After ordering some onion rings and two grilled cheeses accompanied by milkshakes, she turns to him with a fond smile. “How’s your mom?”

She regrets her question as soon as she notices the way his jaw ticks and his eyes lower to the tabletop. “She passed, actually. Lung cancer.”

She closes her eyes, cursing herself. She feels the unfamiliar urge to grab his hand in hers, but she doesn’t think they are at _that_ point yet: they’ve just met after years of no contact. She murmurs a heartfelt “I’m so sorry,” and Killian nods, smiling tightly. 

“She really liked you, you know? Used to say she’d never fostered a girl so pretty and nice as you.” He pauses, and his smile turns softer as his eyes meets hers. “Even though she was scarred for life after that time you visited the island with - what was her name? Lily? - And the bathroom was filled with sand for two weeks.”

Her cheeks flame as she remembers the incident, and she hides her face behind her hands. “Don’t remind me, I found sand in places I didn’t even know existed.” She hears his fond chuckle, and proceeds to lean against the leather cushion of her booth, settling more comfortably. “I really liked her too,” she adds in a lower voice, and he smiles, the earlier cloud of sorrow that had briefly passed through his expression lifting as he looks at her, and her chest kind of tightens as she meets his gaze. 

He sighs loudly and plops his elbows on the table, picking up a fry between his fingers and poising it between his lips. “So. Tell me about the past… 17 years, miss Swan. What did I miss. What do the cool kids do nowadays. What does the grapevine say.”

Emma can’t help but snort, but soon they find themselves talking about the people they had met during that fateful summer they had first been introduced in. She bursts into giggles every time she mentions someone and, as he furrows his brow in concentration, his hands have already taken his phone from his pocket and searched the new name on Facebook, exclaiming loud ‘oooohs’ and ‘aaaaahs’ and ‘holy crap has he changed’ and ‘I remember her, didn’t she use to wear bangs back then?’. 

(Let’s not forget the part of the conversation that she keeps facepalming at, when he finds a picture of their former group and he points at the boy with shaggy hair standing beside Emma. 

“Who even is _this_ one?” 

“Are you kidding me? He was my first kiss!” 

He looks unimpressed. “Was he really? Huh.” 

“You encouraged me to ‘get on with that’”, she counters with a pointed glance in his direction, and he scratches at his chin. 

“Did I? Must have been terribly misguided. You could’ve done better.” 

She snorts. “Did you see the rest of the guys on our group? There was _definitely_ nothing better.” 

“Not the girls, though,” he points out, and she pauses, considers it, and nods sagely, offering her glass to clink with his. 

“...Touché.”)

Then, of course, Killian brings up the big guns ( “So. What TV shows do you watch?”) and they spend an entire hour ranting about their respective TV shows, trying to rope the other into watching this and that, destroying Game of Thrones and almost crying over their favorite characters. It’s only when Granny shows up with their bill - that they haven’t even asked for - that they realize it’s closing time, and they _really_ need to get their asses back home. They agree to meet again for drinks the following week, and after a quick goodbye to Granny, they start pulling on their scarves and zipping up their jackets when they leave the establishment. 

“I had fun today,” Emma admits as she pulls her beanie over her ears. Killian smiles back, tugging on it fondly.

“Me too. I’m glad I messaged you, I wasn’t sure I’d have the courage to do it.”

Something in her belly flutters at the knowledge that he’d been as nervous as she had been about it, even if she had told Ruby she wasn’t. “I’m happy you did.” She doesn’t know what possesses her to do it, but before she knows it, she’s leaning in and pecking his cheek. She avoids his gaze when she pulls away, still completely flabbergasted at herself, and says “See you next week, Killian.”

When she finally feels comfortable enough to look at him, she finds him grinning widely. He nods at her, and turns to go towards his car. “See ya.”

“And good luck on your first day at work!” she calls out. He turns his head back, grinning even wider if it were possible, and gets in his car. Emma’s lips tingle, and she’d be tempted to say it's for the cold and in search of a lip balm, but the truth is they just can’t help but curl into a smile. 

 

* * *

 

To say that Killian becomes from that very day a regular player in the chaotic game that is her life would the understatement of the year. At first they keep it to weekly dinners or nights with drinks; but it doesn’t take long until she shoots him a text midweek to see if he wants to join her to her mall trip, and if the four exclamation points and flamenco dancer emoji are any indication, he doesn’t seem to mind. She also makes a point to let him know he’s going to become _the_ friend who’ll have to accompany her to the movies her other friends don’t feel like watching. He’s game, of course, and soon enough they’re making it a habit of randomly texting the other a movie poster or a particularly brutal review and deciding if they’re up to it.

She also insists on showing him around the city, and adds some sightseeing into their meet ups so Killian can see more than his apartment building, Granny’s and the place where he works. It soon becomes their mission to, as she dubs it, “Make a Bostonian out of him”, which in itself is hilarious considering no matter how hard they try Killian wouldn’t stop sounding or acting as brit as the Queen if his life depended on it. There are things you just can’t fight, and Killian’s britness just happens to be one of them.

It takes her about six weeks to introduce him to her group of friends, and she has to stop herself from wondering why she put it off for such a long time. She shouldn’t have worried, though, seeing as he instantly clicks with them, his witty remarks and dry humor doing wonders for David and Ruby’s, Vic claims him as his new wingman, Elsa and Mary Margaret adore him, and even Mulan seems to take a shine to him - a fact that he sees as an accomplishment in itself, as his texts reading ‘SHE LAUGHED AT MY JOKE!!!!!!!’ followed by the wide-eyed cat emoji can prove. 

Maybe she doesn’t want to admit that she waited so long for him to meet her friends because she was worried of what they’d think of him. Or because she just wanted to cherish the little moments on their own, recalling older times and sharing private jokes. Which is silly, for the simple reason that they keep hanging out on their own and their private jokes are a thing even when they’re in a bigger group, so it’s not like things dramatically change. Killian does a marvelous job of juggling both time with her, with his colleagues from work, hang out with their new group of friends, and even brings a couple of times a pal of his own, a cocky bug-eyed dude called Will Scarlet. Emma would love to say she likes him, but the asshole _dares_  to outdrink her the first time they meet and she has a vendetta against him ever since. It had been funny to witness how he’d turned into a pool of goo once Ruby brought a coworker with her, a pretty brunette with bright blue eyes called Belle. Killian had laughed so hard at Scarlet’s attempts at flirting that Emma had had to pinch his arm to shut him up.

All in all, Emma liked to admit that life, for once, had brought something good for her in the form of Killian Jones. 

 

* * *

 

It’s one of those nights at the bar in which everybody and their mother decides to throw back a few glasses and there are not enough seats for everybody but they’re having a good time anyway. Emma comes back from the restroom with Marian and Elsa in tow and glares at Will, who has beaten her yet again and is already midway his third pint. David is happily engaged in conversation with Killian, who catches her eye when she approaches the group and clinks his glass with hers. They both follow with a complicated handshake-dance trick before taking a pull, and David and Marian roll their eyes in perfect sync.

“Do you two even realize how obnoxious you can be?” Marian comments, and Killian bows.

“Thank you, milady.”

Emma makes a face. “You can’t judge us okay, we made it up when we were ten.”

“Eleven,” Killian corrects.

“Whatever.”

David shakes his head. “Seriously though, how did it even occur to you to message her about being in Boston after seventeen years of not seeing each other?”

Killian’s shoulders lift in a shrug. “I had nothing to lose.”

“And you can’t really forget the sweet surrender of your first lurve, now can ya?”, Will says with a hiccuped laugh as he throws an arm around Killian. He’s currently nursing his fourth pint, which he coincidentally almost spills all over Killian’s shirt, and Emma would laugh if not for the fact that she’s trying to figure out what the hell he just said. She gapes at Killian, whose hand is currently curling into a fist sitting over his knee. 

“Scarlet, do you wish for me to cut one of those funny-looking ears of yours?”

Will, who seems to _really_ want a slow and painful death, smirks haughtily before slinking away. “Am I wrong?” he doesn’t fail to call over his shoulder before disappearing in the crowd, probably in search of his fifth pint. Emma would be impressed if her brain hadn’t stopped working.

Emma keeps staring at Killian, mouth parted, until he whines loudly, shaking his head. She notices that his cheeks have started pinking, and her heart involuntarily starts picking its pace.

“Fine,” he says, and pauses, his fingers fidgeting with a napkin he picks up from the table. “I… Okay, I had a _bit_ of a crush on Emma.”

David, Marian and Ruby, who has approached the group as if she’d sniffed a good ol’ piece of gossip, all “Awwwww” in unison, whereas Emma croaks “What?” She clears her throat, but her next question comes out equally high-pitched. “Why did you never tell me?”

He rolls his eyes. “You know, as smooth as I may be in my amorous affairs right now, back when I was 12 I wasn’t half as experienced.”

The group chortles, and before Emma can butt in, Killian keeps talking. “Besides, you came into my room to tell me about your crush on Neal Cassidy, so I reckoned it wouldn’t be that great of an idea to say anything when you had your eye on another bloke.”

David nods somberly, rising his drink in acknowledgement. “Too true.”

Still reeling from this sudden confession, Emma goes through memories of her stay at Killian’s in her head, trying to pick up hints of his supposed feelings for her back then. Sure, they had gotten along, and laughed together, and spent a lot of time in each other’s presence… and his face had been all funny once she told him about Neal asking her out their last week. She’d always thought it was because he didn’t really know Neal or actually didn’t like him, and not because he had wanted to ask her out instead.

She bites her lip, and catches Killian smiling bashfully at her. She rolls her eyes, trying and failing not to feel her cheeks warming up. 

“You’re such a loser, Jones.”

His grin is self-deprecating. “Sorry?” He shrugs. “We were young and naive.”

“And in luuuuuuurve,” Will supplies as he makes his way to the seat next to Belle, and Killian’s grin morphs into a grimace as he glares at his friend. 

“Strike two, Scarlet.”

They all laugh, and Emma gulps down the remnants of her tequila as Ruby studies her over the rim of her glass, a smile that means nothing good for her curling her red lips. “Emma Swan, breaking hearts since 1983,” she sing-songs, and Emma rolls her eyes. 

“Shut up.”

 

* * *

 

She’d love to say the teasing ends there, but that’s wishful thinking to you. Especially when she has Ruby as a friend, who just _won’t_ let it go. 

It’d be probably way less annoying if Emma hadn’t let it slip in front of her friends how she had had, in fact, a bit of a crush back on Killian during that summer. Both Elsa and Ruby had gasped, delighted, whereas Mulan had judged them from her seat and shared a sympathetic shake of her head with Emma, who had had to put up with her girlfriends’ idea of fun by being serenaded with “Summer Nights” from Grease every time Killian’s name came up in conversation. 

She wouldn’t mind that much if their teasing just stopped there; instead, Mary Margaret liked to drop none-too-subtle hints about her and Killian whenever she had the chance, and the rest of her friends jumped at the chance to add their own input. 

That being said, Emma’s own eye-rolls and protests at their antics would look way more convincing if Killian didn’t choose most of those little girlfriends tête-à-têtes to bug her via text and post on her wall on Facebook, making her phone ping with notifications with his name on them. 

Ruby gives her a meaningful glance. “Seriously Emma?” She grabs Emma’s phone from her hands and shakes her head. “He texts you pictures of puppies. I mean.”

“You two are the best relationship I know of, and you aren’t even in a relationship. It’d be funny if it wasn’t so tragic,” Marian points out, making Elsa cough a laugh behind Emma as she braids her hair in a complicated hairdo that only she’s capable of successfully attempt. 

“Why do you all care so much about this? Don’t you have husbands, girlfriends and boyfriends to harp at instead of messing with my non-existent romantic life?”

“I don’t,” Elsa points out, and Emma smiles despite herself, shaking her head and making Elsa still her in place in order not to ruin her carefully braided knot.

“We just want you to admit that there might be a thing there that you are too blind to acknowledge,” Mary Margaret says earnestly, in that passionate tone she uses to read fairytales for the kids she teaches at her school. “Isn’t it time for you to open yourself up to love?”

“We also want you to get laid,” Ruby adds, and Emma has to laugh at the way Mary Margaret’s face scrunches up in disapproval, as if that wasn’t how she had planned this conversation to go. 

“Why do you care if I get laid or not?” Emma wonders aloud, playing with a plastic flower Leo had brought home for Mary Margaret. 

“Because it’s been ages. And apparently so it has for him.”

Emma’s fingers clamp on the flower’s stem as she freezes. “How do you know that?”

Mulan chortles as she walks around the couch to bring some chips and dips to the low table they’re sitting around. “Scarlet told us the other night. Killian didn’t find it very funny that his _mate_ ” - she stresses the word in a pretty good impression of Killian’s accent - “was airing his private affairs around.” 

Ruby nods, and puts up her hands as if that piece of information is all she needs to make her point. “So, see, we’re just worried about your lack of sex life and thought you could help each other out.”

“How very good samaritan of you,” Emma drawls, and her friend smirks. 

“What are friends for?”

She rolls her eyes and dips a Dorito in guacamole and pops it in her mouth as Elsa, bless her heart, changes the subject and mentions something about Anna’s new dog, that she’d insisted in naming Sven of all things, and she forgets about Killian’s lack of sex life.

 

* * *

 

...Okay, she lied.

She doesn’t forget about Killian’s - and her - lack of sex life. It’s like once Pandora’s box of secrets concerning Killian’s sex habits is open, she can’t stop thinking about it. And now that she is thinking about it, she can’t stop wondering about how she has never stopped to think about it before. Why hasn’t he gone on any dates since he’s come to Boston? Has he gone on any but hasn’t told her? Was Will just making fun of him or was he just trying to annoy Killian by saying something that wasn’t true? Was Killian really having loads of one night stands and he had just never said anything because it wasn’t something that had ever come out when they hung out?

(Was she overthinking this?)

(Why did she even _care_?)

That’s how, a week later, when she’s huddled in Killian’s couch waiting for him to grab something to eat from the kitchen so they can watch a movie, she blurts it out.

He’s walking towards her with two bowls in his hands, asking wether she prefers cookies or popcorn for the night, and she just cocks her head to the side, inspecting him, and blurts:  “How long has it been for you?”

He stares, confused. “Excuse me?”

She realizes - too late, as always - how badly that had sounded, and hides her face behind her hand. “I’m sorry, it’s none of my business, I just mean, you know.”

“No, in fact I don’t know.”

“That you’re… well,” she says, waving her hand in his direction, as if to cover all of him in his hoodie-wearing glory. He arches an eyebrow expectantly.

“Well?”

She exhales loudly. “You’re hot, okay? And lots of girls would love to jump your bones. Why aren’t you?”

He gives her a funny look, which she can’t really blame because she’s not making much sense tonight, and tsk-tsks her. “Believe it or not, Swan, I’m a closeted romantic.”

“Right.”

He drops by her side, tugging on the sheet she’s laid over her lap so they can share it, and his expression turns pensive. “I don’t know. I’ve done the one night thing for a long time; I’ve also tried the relationship thing and it didn’t end well. Now I’m good. If it happens, then it happens.”

“That was... very philosophical.”

He playfully wiggles those damn eyebrows of his. “I’m wise beyond my years.”

She snuggles further into the couch, pouting as she recalls her conversation with her friends. “I don’t know. The girls were talking about it the other day, and it got me thinking. It gets to the point that you kind of miss the sex with socks thing, you know?”

He stares at her like she’s thrown a brick at his forehead. “Come again?”

“You know,” she starts, wildly waving her hand in the air, “the being so comfortable with somebody that you’d even have sex with your socks on? Because you don’t feel self-conscious or ridiculous wearing them and know the other person won’t think less of you?”

He pauses, taking it all in, and finally declares “That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Emma snorts. “Story of my life.”

He bumps his elbow playfully with hers, and it makes her muster a small grin, which seems to soften him. “I don’t know what to tell you. Is it about scratching an itch, or is it the connection so you can wear your socks during sex what you miss?”

She considers his question. “Both, I guess?”

“In my humble opinion, whenever you don’t know what to do in a situation, you should always ask yourself,” he pauses, and fixes his gaze with hers, and for a mad second she’s terrified and elated of what he might do or say, and then he says, “WWBD: what would Beyonce do in my place?”

She doesn’t know what she expected, but she bursts out laughing, hitting him on the arm even though he keeps insisting on how that piece of advice could save her life some day, and they end up on the floor after a tickle fight, cookies and popcorn littering his carpet.

It’s only when they’ve mostly put everything back in its place and cleaned up that they go back to the couch and finally play the movie, and Killian comments as their feet peek up from under their shared sheet in front of them, “For the record, your socks are cute, Swan. It’d be an honor to see them in action.”

 

* * *

 

From that day, Killian seems to take their conversation to heart, and even if Emma insists that it really wasn’t something to dwell over, she lets him become kind of her wingman. They select guys from a dating App that one of her coworkers had insisted she downloaded, ‘to get her back in the game’, and Killian had wasted no time in setting her up with a handful of candidates. The thing is that he, Ruby and the rest will most of the times be around, taking notice of how the date is going so they can give their verdict by the end of it. 

Emma knows that men generally are picky when it comes to choosing a partner - she remembered a comment, courtesy of Victor, of how he wouldn’t date a girl for having 'too straight teeth', whatever that meant - but she’s overall surprised at how _extremely_ picky Killian gets. His reasons for not giving the full OK to a second date are a ball: Ryan was “a total creep”, that August guy was “too sketchy” and he wouldn’t even let Emma defend Walsh because, in his opinion, “he has a monkey face Swan, and we can’t just take a monkey face seriously.”

She would find it weird if she didn’t have so much fun dragging these dates with him instead of trying to set her up with new ones. 

It’s after one new date, with a FBI agent called Graham that had been rather sweet and adorable, that Will comes up to her. After Graham leaves, Killian moves to take his place, shaking his head as he plays with the straw on his glass of rum. “He’s too pretty.”

Emma laughs, but doesn’t have the heart to say anything else, and they start talking about something else. Will shows up at her side at the bar once she goes to get a refill, while Killian goes back to their table to talk with the rest of their friends. She notices the way Will’s staring at her, almost drilling a hole in the side of her head, and she turns to rise a confused eyebrow in his direction.

“What?” she asks as she finally makes eye contact with the bartender.

“You realize he’s ruining your dates on purpose, right?”

She halts, and has to shake herself in order to remember her order and repeat it to the bartender and then turn her attention back to Will. “What?”

He just gives her a look, and she stretches her neck so she can see Killian where he’s seating with Elsa, making her laugh with something he’s said. 

“Why would he do that?” she asks. 

Will stays mum, never breaking eye contact as he slurps down his pint. Emma frowns, feeling dizzy as she exchanges looks between him and Killian, and suddenly something clicks. 

“Oh, shit.”

She walks briskly until she’s standing by Killian’s stool, and he grins at her until he takes in the expression on her face. Before he can ask her what’s wrong, she silences him with a look and jabs her finger in his shoulder to the point that he winces. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Elsa slips from Killian’s side as discreetly as she can, even though Emma bets every pair of eyes are fixed on their little display. “Sorry?” Killian asks, bewildered. 

“Are you really trying to stop me from hooking up with some other guy?”

A slight frown pulls at his mouth, and he licks at his lips unconsciously, the way he does when he’s nervous. “I thought you asked me to be honest with you about these tossers?”

She crosses her arms over her chest. “Does being honest also mean ruin any chance I have with them?”

“Swan, you asked my opinion, and I’ve given it. That’s it.”

“Really? That’s all?” There’s a challenge in her voice, and she knows he can hear it, because he straightens his posture and fixes her with a glare.

“It’s not my fault none of them are worthy of you.”

That catches her by surprise. “What?”

He sighs warily and passes a hand over his face, as if he’s too tired to discuss this of all things, but doesn’t say anything else.

“Oh my God. We’re doing this again,” she states, and her voice turns a bit hysterical. “We _literally_ did this 17 years ago!”

Killian seems to take notice of her demeanor, and finally meets her eyes, apology and shame clouding his features. “I’m sorry, Swan.” He stops for a moment, mulling over what he’s about to say, and appears to give up. “I - I have no excuse. But I can’t really stand here and tell you about other men who could be good for you when I’m the one who wants you for himself. I was being a downright selfish bastard and I apologize.” 

She almost sways on the spot, but wills herself to just _breathe_ , in and out, and finally talk. 

“Remember how you had a crush on me but I showed up in your room to tell you I was going on a date with Neal?”

His chuckle is cynical. “How could I forget about that.”

She braces herself, closing her eyes firmly as she confesses the rest. “I never told you that I had had a crush on you too, but thought you didn’t feel the same, so I moved onto Neal.” 

Killian stays silent for a total of five seconds. Then…

“ _What?_ ” She opens her eyes and finds him gaping at her, eyes wide and mouth parted in shock. “Why didn’t you say anything?!”

“Why didn’t _you_ say anything?” she retorts back in a _very_ mature display. He’s about to protest when Will’s voice booms over theirs as he sits at the next table.

“Why don’t you two say the truth now?”

Both of them turn to glare at him, and Killian growls in a dangerous tone “Scarlet.”

“This is boring,” Will declares, and sighing loudly, as if he can’t believe he’s had to restore to this, he gets on his feet and steps towards them until he can put an arm around each of their shoulders.“Here: she likes you,” he tells Killian as he points at her. “He really, _really_ likes you,” he adds to Emma, pointing at Killian. “It’s embarrassing to watch. Please, do something about it. Snog the poor bastard.”

Ruby quietly snorts from her seat, choking on her laughter as she tells Mulan in a whisper, “He said _snog_.”

Mulan is too busy with the rest of their friends to share in her girlfriend’s absurd humor, though. She’s smirking at them, and when Elsa puts her hands up in the air dramatically and claims “For the love of God, kiss her already!” she joins in with the rest of their obnoxious, childish friends. 

“Kiss him!”

“Kiss her!”

“I don’t know what this is about, but yeah, make out!” a funny sort of guy who occupies the table behind theirs claims. 

Emma’s mind races. This is it, this is _the_ moment. She used to dream about kissing Killian for hours during that summer, and she won’t deny that she’s thought about it more than once since he came back into her life. Correction: she’s thought about it _a lot_ ; she just hasn’t been honest enough with herself to admit it. 

Still, it’s a pretty big decision. And big decisions need big advice. 

“Would Beyonce kiss him?” she wonders aloud, and Killian laughs softly. She sees Mulan from the corner of her eye shrug as she hides a smile.

“If she were you, she really would,” Mulan assures her, and the rest of the girls - and Victor - nod in unison. 

Emma breathes out slowly. “Okay then.”

She kisses him. She leans in, catching his lips with hers and grabs the side of his face to pull him closer. Her mind goes blank and her body goes numb as the realization that she’s kissing Killian, childhood crush and best friend, sweeps over her. Her lips brush hers, softly first, until he starts pressing his mouth to hers insistently, burying a hand in her hair. The entire world seems to disappear as they stand there together, the way she’d rather it were, if not for the catcalls and clapping around them. 

He leaves a last soft kiss on her lips as his forehead touches hers, breathing heavily as if they’d never done anything harder in their lives than finally admitting they did, in fact, have feelings for each other. She rests her hands on his shoulders as their friends keep talking - and, in Ruby’s case, squealing - behind them, and Emma’s breath escapes in a choked laugh. Killian grins back, eyes shining happily as he drinks her in. She bites her lip. 

“I’m wearing really cute socks, by the way,” she adds quietly, fingers tangling in the hair at the back of his neck and tugging on it, and his grin morphs into a smirk as he pulls her closer. 

“Can’t wait to see them,” he assures her, and claims her lips with his again. 


End file.
